


Do these Nightmares ever End?

by Ursa_99



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Attempt at angst, Clarke needs a break, So does everyone else, clarke needs a hug, now everyone say it louder, why can't our heroes just have a break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25891474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursa_99/pseuds/Ursa_99
Summary: A little bit of predicting what's going to hit the fan for 7x12. Mostly, I'm just using the M-CAP as a way for people to see how much crap Clarke's been through.“Wake up for us Wanheda. You will be the good for all mankind, the key. One way or another”
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Gabriel Santiago | Xavier, Clarke Griffin & Nathan Miller, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin
Comments: 25
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

The moment she saw the people start to grab Clarke she was after them, but a firm hand held her back.

“Bellamy what are you doing” Octavia pleaded.

“What I have to do”

Octavia could see it; he believed every word that came out of his mouth. Did he not see what he was doing to his family, his friends?

“You can’t believe this is the way, this isn’t you. This isn’t who you are”

He only blinked at her, that settled sad expression still on his face, as if he can’t understand why they’re upset at him.

“This is who I’ve always been, O. This if for everyone, this is how I do better. Have faith in that the Shepard will guide us”

With that Bellamy turned and left, unwilling to look her in the eyes, or maybe he just dismissed them for his new found love of the Shepard and his cult.

Octavia could do nothing but watch where he left, where Clarke was dragged away. The man before her did nothing, didn’t blink, didn’t even hesitate. It wasn’t Bellamy, wasn’t her Bellamy, her brother.

…

Time seemed endless, but Octavia had a feeling that they were being ignored, not purposefully; but because there was little use for them at the moment, or maybe they were already planning on how to turn the rest of them towards the cause.

Jordan paced against the back wall, tired and worried. “She should be back by now”

Clarke. That’s who he was talking about, but from the few times her brother’s been back it sounds like the eldest Griffin was giving them hell…she’s just not sure how long Clarke would last though.

Or if she’d make it out in a coherent piece.

Miller, still laying against the ground resting his head on his arm, nodded. “He’s right, we need—”

But Miller never got to finish what he said, instead he was interrupted by the hiss of the hydraulic door.

Instantly they were all tense, waiting for the unknown threat about to come through.

Only it wasn’t armed soldiers and Bellamy, at least not completely this time. Octavia came face to face with Levitt, that same hopeful yet guilty look in his eyes.

“Hey” he croaked low enough so that only he and Octavia could hear. Clearing his throat, he did his best to look away from the woman in front of him, the one who’s probably done the most damage to him more than any other person in his life; and yet, he still couldn’t feel anything but admiration and pain for her, for the message he brings, for how their world has turned out.

“The Shepard has requested you all to join—”

“Don’t bother, we know it’s not a suggestion” Raven snapped, she was tucked into the corner closest to Miller and Jordan.

Levitt opened his mouth but closed it with a sigh, it’s true. The Shepard wanted them as _motivation_ for the infamous Clarke Griffin. He caught Octavia’s eyes again wishing to convey all the feelings swirling underneath but he didn’t know how to articulate them…well, that and there was an armored team behind him that wouldn’t hesitate to blast him to smithereens if they so much as suspected he wasn’t completely under the Shepard’s thumb.

“Right. To your feet then” He turned half way giving room for the Sanctum crew to move freely, only no one but Octavia and Echo moved, the latter of which caused Levitt to take an unconscious step back. His body still remembers the pain she inflicted upon him in her hast to destroy everyone in this place.

Unfortunately, this prompted the guards to start getting aggressive towards the rest. Levitt did his best to ignore the screaming and grunts of painful resistance, the throwing of bodies against the wall and floor.

“The more you resist, the more you will be treated as a threat” he offered, it only got him glares. Sighing he turned back around, Octavia not far off to his left.

“What does the Shepard want us for”

He slowed, letting Octavia catch up, and maybe just to postpone what he knew was about to happen. Though not stopping to turn, despite the pull of the badass woman close to his side, he offered up the truth, or at least the truth that he was told by the Shepard.

“He wants you to convince Clarke to let us into her mind, or use you to force Clarke’s hand, before she gets herself killed…or at the very least keep her from a permanently dysfunctional mind”

“The hell does that mean” Miller challenged, his anger earning him another pair of hands to drag him to their destination.

Levitt felt eyes boring into the side of his head, but Octavia didn’t have the same anger he’s seen in her companions, if anything it was concern. He knows she knows what happens when you resist M-CAP.

“It means that you are the only hope for Clarke to give us what we want without compromising her brain” Anymore than it probably already was, he wanted to add.

“Is she not focusing” she whispered, her shoulder brushed his, with that small touch he could feel all the tension in her body. Though with the shouting and complaining of the people behind them she could probably yell and none of the guards would notice.

Levitt dropped his chin, doing his best to whisper back, “I don’t think she can. Her brain activity is off the charts, and all that thinking is just hurting her”

Octavia gave a slight nod. If constant thinking wasn’t a way to describe Clarke then nothing could…but, she looked to Levitt, urging quietly for him to give out anymore info about what has happened to Clarke. She didn’t want to know what the haunted look in his eyes meant, nor the anxiety that seemed to hug his shoulders.

The rest of the walk was in absolute silence, it seemed that even Raven and Miller accepted their fate and weren’t going to make anymore fuss. Outside of a door Levitt seemed to stall, his hand white knuckled against his side.

He knocked on the door.

Octavia could barely hear it through the hiss, but it was still there between them, “I’m sorry”

She turned her head, hearing the gasps behind her. The shock, anger, and fear written on the faces behind her. The small child in her that seemed to have revived, at least a little bit sometime after the war with Sanctum, wanted to run without looking into the room. Hell, Octavia could feel the hair from her arms to the back of her neck stand on end.

She didn’t need to hear the cries of Clarke’s name coming from the others, didn’t need to see what they were.

But she had to, she needed to if she was ever going to figure out how to get her people out of here. Octavia’s ears were ringing, as if forcing her brain to focus on only what she was seeing before she flinched at what she saw.

The chair was facing away from them, but that did nothing to hide the black blood rolling down in the insanely white room. Blood fell from the metal digging into Clarke’s matted bloody blonde hair.

Straps she never had to been put under held Clarke against the chair, and a mouth gag was put in place. Only, Octavia didn’t know if it was to keep Clarke from yelling or biting her tongue out.

…

“Ah, good of you to join us” Bill Cadogan greeted them, as if he was taking them to lunch; but there was a frustration, an anger, in his eyes and woven into his breath.

Gabriel was the first to move, pushing past Octavia only to find weapons pointed at him and arms grabbing his clothes. Instantly he had his hands up and looked at the man.

“I just to check her medical status, her brain waves”

Cadogan waved a hand, his men letting go just as easily. “Go ahead, maybe you can help”

“This is insane” Jordan said in awe fear.

Raven was the next forward, “The hell did you do to her!” she yelled.

This time the guards didn’t let her go, dragging her to the other side of the chair where she was forced onto her knees; and where she could see everything that was keeping Clarke tied to the contraption. It wasn’t even a second later when the rest were subjugated to a kneeling position.

All save Gabriel who was joined by Levitt, hushed whispers.

The concerned and concentrated looks were doing nothing to keep down the rising tide of panic

They could all see it, see the blood spilling down and puddling near their knees. Worse Clarke wasn’t awake, she wasn’t moving. The only indication telling anyone in the room that she was alive was pulse of her heartbeat on the monitor.

“Well gentlemen?” Cadogan asked, swiping some of Clarke’s blood onto his fingertips to study under the harsh clinical lights.

“Still asleep from earlier sir” Levitt supplied, not a lie but the mental strain that she was put under would have lasting consequences if they continued with the sessions the same way before.

Gabriel who was inspecting the metal impaled into Clarke’s head frowned, he looked back at the scan of the great Wanheda’s brainwaves. She was asleep but her brain was operating as if she was being hunted down like a dog.

Clarke, even in sleep did not escape the clutches of the exhaustion of being a leader it seemed. Her vitals were stable, though it concerned Gabriel greatly that Clarke was enduring something of such mental strain. It hadn’t been that long since Josephine had over taken Clarke and put her brain into meltdown, and now…

He sighed. Her brain integrity was already compromised.

“The mental exhaustion will become a problem; her brain can’t take much more. She needs more rest before you proceed.” Gabriel looked at Cadogan. The older man, slinked his eyes from his black blood-stained fingers to him.

“Which is why I need your help” The man came closer and Gabriel was thankful for years of learning self-control, especially of his facial features, he wanted to bad to put himself between Clarke and man who saw himself a god.

Cadogan traced Clarke’s cheek, spreading her blood that was on his fingers across her face. He was amazed the woman could scream so much; she was so defiant every step of the way that he couldn’t help but see his daughter in her.

A pity that he had to dig around her head for scraps of code, he didn’t want to destroy her brain it was like a history book all of itself from what he gathered from her friend, Mr. Blake.

However, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious of what her mind kept contained.

Taking a step back to give the doctor some room, he gave the order. “Wake her up”

He ignored the protests of her people and waited for the Commander of Death to wake.

Levitt cleared his throat, “Yes, sir…starting waking procedure” He looked at Gabriel, offering the syringe. The doctor still had that frown on his face, and maybe it deepened when he looked to Levitt, but neither of them said anything.

Gently Gabriel lifted Clarke’s arm inserting the needle, images of eradicating Josephine came to mind. Just how far will humans go in their time in this universe.

“Injection complete” Levitt supplied at his side; Gabriel watched as the man stared off into the black blood clotting in the blonde hair before him.

“Nightblood” he offered.

Levitt nodded, still mystified at the woman strapped to the chair between them. She, Clarke Griffin, was one of the people who stood out most in Octavia’s memories. It seemed like everyone from Earth, or at least the Ark, had a will to survive that was above and beyond anyone he’s met.

Gabriel sighed again as he held a cloth to Clarke’s forehead, the all to familiar gesture souring when the blood seeped through easily. Head wounds bleed very readily, Gabriel knew, but he saw the restraints on the small woman who walked like a giant; and all he could think about was Clarke making a drastic decision, like she seems to always do for her people, to ram the metal into her own brain before she gave anything up.

He looked over to his friends, none seemed to know what to do. Octavia looked to him before her eyes trailed to the blood-soaked rag against the blonde’s head and then back to him. Her normal strength seemed to drop with her face at the sight before her.

This was Clarke Griffin, some how both unofficial and official leader all at once. No matter who was in charge it was Clarke, always there, to urge her people forward. To guide and to protect…to sacrifice herself, and now that woman lay unconscious in confines that not even the Eligius prisoners were put under.

He shook his head slightly, he was only able to do so much with Cadogan breathing down their necks, besides this room was ill equipped it seems for medical care despite what the room is used for.

Though Octavia didn’t deflate anymore, the sorrow in her eyes hiding once again behind a careful indifferent anger, her shoulders seemed to grow heavier. Gabriel looked away when he saw the woman try to stare into her brother’s soul, as if to beg him to stop this nonsense that was going on around him.

He didn’t want to see the expression that broke her façade, or at least see the hopelessness that threatened to drown her like the rest of them. The other reason why he looked away was because there was an almost indistinguishable ripple under his palm.

“Ah” Cadogan’s pleased voice grated against Gabriel’s ears despite his voice being seemingly as smooth as the silk tablecloths the man ate on. “Wake up for us _Wanheda_. You _will_ be the good for all mankind, the key. One way or another”

They could still hear Clarke scream through the gags in her mouth when she woke.


	2. Chapter 2

…

She was so _tired_.

Tired of walking this endless desert, for the second time. Or was it the first, was everything just a figment of her imagination? It’s possible. She trained to be a doctor, saw what heat stroke did to the engineers when stations’ power went down; she remembers their delirious cries before slumping down in overly exhausted clumps of bodies, now those deaths were slow and painful.

The crunch of glass shards under her boots did little else than remind her how silent her world was now.

Alone.

She was alone in a hellhole it seemed…what if this was just a massif hallucination? What if the war for Eden didn’t happen, did she even find Eden or was Clark going to be forced to wander till her body broke down under the sun again? Is Octavia in the bunker, is she alive, did her mind conjure up the image of the Red Queen just to screw with herself, just so she could possibly see a fraction of how people saw her as Wanheda?

Another sharp deep spike of pain drilled its way through her head, she needed water or Clarke knew her body was going to shut down. Eventually, the sharpness blead out to a dull pain, bearable barely, the elements were going to kill her if she didn’t do anything.

Still tired, still fighting, and still dying as she lived, Clarke took another step forward. Clarke did her best to ignore how her legs sunk into the sand, as if the Earth was willing itself to kill her itself since no human could.

Step after step, sunken foot after sunken foot. Days passed and her water had run out and what little food she did scrounge Clarke didn’t trust not to choke on it. She couldn’t even produce any tears when she cried herself to sleep.

And her headache, it was like a constant pressure building, forcing her to her knees every once in a while. It got so bad with the delirium, that Clarke pulled her gun back out. Her skull felt like it was being split apart, she didn’t know if the heat was getting to her, she didn’t know if it was the last of her hope dying that was getting to her.

Clarke didn’t know. Didn’t care. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

There was no rover, no valley, no Madi. Her sweet, sweet child that lead her into a bear trap was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Only ghosts greeted her for company in her endless trek across the dead planet.

Polis wasn’t there, the valley was barely that and there were no trees, no streams, no grass…somehow despite the years that passed she could not die. She should be dead by all accounts, no food or water in her system for months and she still could not die.

Maybe this was her personal hell, her sentence for becoming Wanheda.

So here Clarke Griffin kneeled, glass digging through her clothes and into her knees, her gun in hand with metal so hot that it should have burned a hole through her hand, the barrel flushed with her head. Clarke had lost count of how many times she came to her breaking point over the endless years, somewhere along the way she stopped caring and hoped that she could die. The fear that once plagued her about walking around with a bullet in her head like a zombie, unable to truly rest in peace, kept her from pulling the trigger.

That fear hadn’t eased any more than the sun beating down on her and burning her, the only difference is that she’s become accustomed to the fear to where it did nothing more than offer a distraction of thought.

The last of the Commanders, the last of the hundred, the last of humanity to walk on Earth.

Here was Clarke Griffin, destroyer of worlds, mountain slayer, Wanheda—the Commander of Death.

Here was the last of her fight. Here her fight is over.

The gun shot seemed louder than it should have been, but it didn’t matter, her world was swirling, breaking, ending.

Her body fell in slow motion, but Clarke could wait for it to hit the ground. She waited years for comfort, for this hell to be over, for her friends to come back down. It didn’t matter that her nerves were shot and screaming, begging for her to move away from a pain in which she could not outrun.

The glassy sand embraced her in a warm hug, clinging to her as if it was willing life to keep her there in the moment; but to her great satisfaction, her eyelids were getting heavy, her breathing more shallow and more ragged. Her headache never healed during her time in her personal hell, never went away, and now it was growing with a rage, but jokes on it. Clarke split her own head open with the last bullet.

Darkness wasn’t fast, like everything trying to kill her it took its time; but it did cover her, covered here when the stars were out mocking her and the existence she’s lived. It only occurred to her in her last coherent thoughts, that she didn’t see the Ark where it should have been.

She was the last, the last of everything. Death had finally caught its Commander.

…

“Ahhhhrghh!!!” Bright light burned her eyes, the miracle of tears adorned her face.

Pain laced through her body, wrapping around her head and penetrating deep into her heart. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad!

White walls and pain, mount weather. No…no this can’t be right, mount weather was destroyed, thrice over. Her, Echo, Praimfaya. This place shouldn’t be standing.

Another nightmare, another hell.

Hands grabbed her and the panic set in with the pain. She had to get out, had to flee. This place wasn’t safe.

“Clarke! Clarke I need you to—stop thrashing you’re making it worse” Gabriel tried stabilizing her head but Clarke wouldn’t seek reason, he suspected she couldn’t, not with the way she was tearing at the straps and screaming in pain.

“Clarke stop, just stop” Raven cried.

“You’re hurting yourself stop it” It was Miller this time, he tried to stand but hands pushed his body back down by the shoulders.

The shouting of their companions was doing nothing to ease the agitation in the room. Gabriel turned around at them.

“Enough, everyone stop yelling!” his own voice booming more than he’d like. Ignoring the shock on the others’ faces, he’s never really yelled in front of them before, and Cadogan’s quirked brow he focused on Clarke who was writhing in the chair.

Gabriel didn’t think he’d be thankful for the straps but they held her down, allowing him to get close without fear of being clawed or kicked. That didn’t mean Clarke didn’t try.

No on the contrary, the blonde who came into his life like a hand grenade just kept moving, willing to go so far as trying to break bone and tear her own skin just to get away.

“Clarke” he lowered his voice, keeping it as soft and soothing as possible. She’d broken parts of the scabs on her head, causing blood to start trailing down her face like black rain once again. He winced seeing the metal gouge into her head, the scrap of metal on bone caused his stomach to plead for expelling its contents despite his years as a doctor.

Gently but firmly her held Clarke’s head till he was able to force her eyes open, a wild look in her eye that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what caused it.

“Clarke” he said again, still soft and gentle. It worked barely, she was still flinching and squinting. “I’m sorry Clarke” he whispered. They’ve been down this path before, messing with a brain will do things, and this woman had endured enough; but there wasn’t anything he could do, not with the rest of their friends’ lives on the line, and not when they were so outnumbered. He just hoped the woman before him would survive this time.

A familiar face peered down at her. A major sense of deja vu hitting her just as hard as the splitting headache.

“Gabriel? Wha—” she forced out around her dry mouth before coughing violently, a metallic taste spread through her mouth doing little to satisfy her need for water.

“Here” he offered some water that Levitt seemed to grab out of thin air. It was hard for her to drink, but Clarke took in greedy sips, she would have clung to the arm holding the cup if she wasn’t so tired, or restrained.

Quickly everything came back, she wasn’t in mouth weather, even if she preferred that hell to this one. Instead she was taken away, marched like a martyr to this room after…Clarke cried out in pain as her head throbbed. She wished to hold her head or maybe put another bullet through it.

Breathing heavily her eyes jumped all over the room, ignoring the cup that kept trying to push water into her mouth. They’d wanted her memories, tried forcing them from her mind just as much as Josephine wanted to get rid of hers.

And Bellamy.

She tried to keep the tears from falling, but couldn’t. At least they were silent.

No Bellamy had stood there as she pleaded for him to stop them, stop the Shepard. Levitt was the only one there, muttering sorries into her ear whenever he bent over to fiddle with the contraption holding her head.

The man who came back was not her Bellamy, he was farther from the Bellamy she knew, farther than the stranger who came back to her valley before it was blown away to a completely deadened state.

And he just stood there, saying she needed to put her faith in the Shepard like he did. Clarke had begged him but he stood back, ‘it was for the good of all mankind’ he said.

“Clarke” Gabriel’s voice brought her from her thoughts and into the painful reminder of their reality, of the pain she was enduring physically, mentally, emotionally.

“Focus. You were put under since you were fighting M-CAP and risked permanent brain damage” Than you probably already have, it wasn’t said between them but they were both versed in health and knew there was already lasting damage from Josephine. Gabriel didn’t need to tell her any more than Clarke needed to say it back. She hadn’t really planned to leave this planet, she just needed to get her friends back.

Clarke blinked, drawing a blank. She didn’t remember Gabriel being in the room, he wasn’t there before, was he? The man was a bit more chummy with Cadogan even if they didn’t see eye to eye, maybe he was brought in to watch.

Gabriel offered the rest of the water, still pulling the cup away when ever she got greedy. Clarke hatted it but knew it was better than vomiting the liquid back up if she took it all at once.

“How do you feel” Levitt asked by Gabriel’s side, the two of them body blocking a good portion of the room from her sight with how close they were. She could already feel herself getting antsy despite the heavy weight of her limbs, years of everything trying to kill you will make you very vigilant; but now it felt like there was something in her blind spot waiting for her guard to be dropped.

“Like hell” It brought small smiles to the two males that seemed to loom over her from her position. Levitt left to go do something, leaving Gabriel as her only shoulder angel.

That did nothing to comfort her when she saw a flash of Cadogan in her peripherals. Gabriel must have noticed her discomfort because he shifted slightly, wiping blood off her face and putting pressure on her wounds; but also scrunching the cloth up almost like he was cupping her temple, adding a barrier to the prevent her from viewing the man who ordered her torture.

“How do you really feel” Gabriel whispered, dabbing away at the blood trying to not make her flinch and still keep her from seeing all the eyes on her. He didn’t need her freaking out again.

He watched her open her mouth, the fake bravado barely getting out before it cracked.

“It hurts” Clarke whimpered, chin trembling, in a moment of weakness. She wanted her mom, she wanted Madi. All she wanted to do was keep her friends safe and go—go where? Home was gone unless Sanctum was their home now but even then, it was on the cusp of war already with the tensions running high.

Gabriel moved bloody hair out of the way, “We’ll get through this Clarke, don’t you worry”

“How—” She wasn’t able to be reassured by Gabriel, instead Cadogan’s voice rippled through the room with that ever at ease and happy tone.

“Is she ready to start again”

Chills overtook Clarke’s body.

“Clarke, deep breaths” Gabriel pleaded.

But she couldn’t. Her body was going through too many to control. There was anger, fear, sorrow, hopelessness, pain.

There was disgruntled grunt from Gabriel, but she didn’t see him move out of the way. Instead, she saw the fake god taking his place and cupping her face. Cadogan looked at her like she was some sort of awe-inspiring science project.

“Clarke, Bellamy here says you don’t have the flame, that it’s destroyed. He also said that remnant code could be floating through your—what did you call it”

Cadogan turned his head, still holding her own Clarke could do nothing but follow with her eyes. She wished she hadn’t.

They landed on Bellamy. “Mind space, it’s what kept her alive when Josephine Lightbourne was put into her head”

“Ah, yes, thank you. The mind space.” Cadogan turned back to her.

“I hope you do not fight this time Clarke Griffin, I would like to think you still have part of the key in you, even if it’s physical confines were destroyed. I do wish we could work together”

Clarke spits in his face with what little she had leftover from screaming her lungs out, “How about you go float yourself instead, Cadogan” The warming of weapons would be heard behind her, but Cadogan didn’t seem mad. Instead he just laughed motioning for his followers to stand down as he wiped her spit off.

“You do remind me so much of my Calliope, Clarke. Stubborn, strong willed and always fighting for others.” Cadogan leaned against her confining chair, arms crossed and relaxed as if he was just berating her instead of threatening her.

“Clarke the war to end all wars is coming, and you could help us end it. I hope you will fight with us” there was a shift, slight and minute, but it was there just behind the eyes. “I hope your friends will too”

He released her head and moved towards Levitt, leaving her friends open for her to see. They were forced on their knees, execution style. Instinctually she tried to get up, to go to them; instead she only hit straps and felt the metal scrap across her head.

She hissed in pain; she couldn’t show them how scared she was. How lost she was. How dead they all were. How messed up everything has become.

All of then called her, trying to get her attention. Their voices added to her headache, what should have been loud but honest voices sounded like steel screeching against each other and gun shots going off.

Gabriel was at her side again, frowning slightly despite the turmoil in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head applying the cool damp cloth against her forehead covering her eyes. It was a simple gesture that offered a minute piece of comfort.

Clarke did her best to focus on his hand pressing the cloth into her face, letting the coolness draw out the rising tides of panic.

She could hear her blood pounding and feel her chest constricting, she couldn’t breathe. The opposite hand of Gabriel was brushing her hair, but the comfort he was trying to give was out numbered, out maneuvered but her dread.

“Start the program” Cadogan’s voice was the final nail in her coffin, Gabriel’s words weren’t getting to her anymore, her arms and legs tingled as her body fought with her brain.

“Please don’t fight us anymore Clarke” Cadogan asked, taking a position between her and Levitt. “Let us see your memories Clarke”

Clarke found herself whining as the machine booted up again. She barely lasted from the first procedure; just how long would she last this time.

Gabriel moved away or was forced away from her; his hand gone now left her reeling for some sort of connection, some sort of rock. Instead she was only got a glimpse of Octavia on her knees looking as cool and collected as before, she was saying something, but Clarke could not hear, not completely.

She tried to read the other woman’s lips, ‘one memory’ maybe. It was similar to Levitt’s focus on something meaningless.

The cloth fell away from her face, forcing her into the blinding light again and the giant contraption above her.

Her eyes caught the man to blame for all this, his easy going smile still in place. “You’ll give us your memories, Clarke”

Clarke did her best to snarl over the pain, “Like hell I am”

She didn’t hear herself scream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps, I got no beta and I got no sleep, but here's the next chapter on a piece that once again is getting away from me.
> 
> Also, 1) hope y'all staying safe out there 2) music for not necessarily only this chapter but bands I like and I think mesh well with the 100 ('especially go to war')
> 
> Chord Overstreet - Hold On  
> Nothing more-go to war

…

She was tired, _exhausted_. Tired from holding her arms to her ears, tired of the events that have led to this moment, tired of trying to keep Clarke’s screams from destroying her eardrums and any remaining hearing she might have.

It didn’t take long after seeing Clarke was attached to the M-CAP machine for her heart to start thundering in her chest.

Clarke Griffin, the woman who chose who lives and who dies was caught in a tug of war between the living and dead. It hasn’t occurred to her till now, but looking back at the woman that’s more legend than human in her memories, the one who was jumping from torture right before her eyes, _that_ Clarke isn’t dead not because she’s escaped the grasping hands of death like the rest of them; but instead, maybe she can’t die, not like the rest of them. What happens when death rejects you?

She flinched despite not being the one strapped down onto a table like she was accustomed to. Instead Raven looked away, her emotions just as high and flying as the cries coming from Clarke’s lips.

Even with the restraints Clarke’s body jumped from pain, contorting any way it could to find relief away from the memory capturing device.

It didn’t seem real, Clarke was always so strong, so large despite her short stature; seeing her so human, so very, very human…it was scary.

Without Clarke what did they have?

Bellamy was off his rocker with devotion to these fucking cultists for some reason. Not even Clarke’s pain would change his stance. Clarke, you know, Clarke Griffin the woman Bellamy would do anything for; yeah, that isn’t an option anymore, Raven wasn’t even sure they could do anything for him now that Clarke and her pain meant jack shit against the war to end all wars.

So, what did they have left, with Bellamy out of the picture and Clarke—Raven flinched from another bout of yells, it amazed her how loud the blonde could be, Clarke never had to raise her voice much on the ground. Not when her feet left the ground roaring beneath her.

Hell, if Raven was truly honest with herself Clarke was the quietest person physically save for Monty and Harper.

Either way, she wasn’t sure of what Clarke’s state would be after this. That left them leaderless on a strange planet in the face of adversaries that had _decades_ of experience on them, even if they did lack the same amount of wars.

Clarke screamed again, “Aaaarghh!!!” biting her lip in vain to keep from screaming.

It occurred to her then, when she saw Clarke’s lip split, that she was scared; Raven Reyes was _scared_. Not just for herself but for her friends, her family. She’s always had Bellamy and more so Clarke to make the hard decisions, to give them the hope and push they needed to face the next wave that was trying to put them in the ground permanently.

They didn’t have either of those two now.

“Stop”

Raven turned to the restrained hiss. Miller was raging quietly, shoulders tense and anger filling his eyes.

“Stop” he said again, a little bit louder this time; but no one seemed to hear him except for Raven.

“I said stop it!” Miller was on his knees faster than Raven expected a person kneeling could move. Fists came flying at him, the first he dodged, ramming his shoulder into an armored guard. A satisfying ‘oof’ came from the person, but the small satisfaction was easily squashed when three pairs of arms hounded him back to the ground.

Feet kicked the air from his lungs while arms pinned him back down. Miller could vaguely hear his name being called, could see a movement similar that was Hope ready to joining but Echo stopping her; yet all he could hear was the ringing in his ears after a solid heel connected to his head.

“Stop it” he coughed out; Miller didn’t even realize he was trying to craw towards the chair Clarke was strapped in till a pair of boots obscured his vision.

“Don’t move” a voice said, distorted through the high-tech uniform. His oppressor’s right foot rising just enough that Miller knew what they were going to do.

They were so not having a good time.

Boot met fingers, the crushing pops of his dactyls drawing forth a scream from his own lungs.

Miller didn’t see the prod, didn’t hear his name being screamed in warning, nor did he feel the electricity flowing through him. He was just out in a second.

“Enough” Cadogan’s stern but light voice stopping the guard from turning towards the rest of Clarke’s friends.

He looked towards Levitt, ignoring the frown from Gabriel who was wise enough not to draw attention to himself. “any change”

The man shook his head, “vitals are low. The key—I mean, Clarke is dehydrated and exhaustion seems to be starting to take control. Continuation of the current rate will lead to permanent damage if she continues to fight against the M-CAP”

Levitt kept his voice level, looking at the screen and away from the beaten man on the floor and the tortured woman right next to him. For some reason Clarke was unable to focus on anything, or from what he’s seen in Octavia’s memory Clarke was focusing, it was just on trying to keep her mind like a vault instead of focusing on a memory.

He took a deep breath and stepped toward Cadogan. He’d have to play this right or else he’d be on cleaning duty again, or worse.

Cadogan leaned his head a bit, indicating for him to continue. Levitt kept his eyes forward towards the blank walls,

“I suggest we give her a break—”

Cadogan frowned mouth down in distaste, a hidden curious anger so prevalent in his eyes that Levitt wondered how he’d never seen it before, it baffled him. Quickly Levitt continued on lest he was the one put on the M-CAP machines.

“Let her brain recuperate” he angled his tense body, leaving the rest of Clarke’s people to be seen. Levitt locked eyes with the eldest Blake, who stood there looking uninterested but lost all at the same time. He wandered what was going through his mind.

“Let her be able to comprehend the situation. Have Be—Mr. Blake convince her to help with the war to end all wars. If nothing comes from it, we can continue to _entice_ Clarke with her friends”

Levitt wanted to gut himself. This wasn’t the way to end the war of all wars, hell this wasn’t even the way to start it; but this could be a way to by time.

Cadogan stared into his eyes, Levitt hoped he was convincing enough, but the older man just examined the woman howling on the table bleeding black over the bleach white room.

The man was thoughtful, looking so lost in thought that Levitt wondered if he could just take Octavia and her friends and just bolt.

Levitt watched Cadogan stroke his beard, “Proceed”

His heart dropped when he heard the man speak. There would be no rest for the wicked.

“Do as you seem fit, if you think it’s best to have Clarke’s brain rest so be it”

Levitt had to bite his lip to keep from smiling in shock, a tangy metallic spread through his mouth, just that little bit had his stomach turning. He didn’t want to know what Clarke was feeling.

“Get me the _key_ ” It didn’t need to be said twice, but now Levitt had something to work with. Gulping Levitt nodded.

“Right away”

…

She didn’t know how long it was, but when she woke Clarke felt like her throat had been torn out.

“Woah, Clarke! Calm” A hand eased her down by her shoulders, she whimpered at the fires burning in her throat. And her head, now that was mean pulse thumping, skull splitting, eye piercing pain.

“Here” A second voice, Levitt with some more water. She didn’t even have the energy to lift her head.

“You need to drink, it’s cool. It should help sooth the some of the pain. Gabriel raised the chair as Levitt forced the water down her throat.

She sputtered trying to get the water to flow over the raw skin in her mouth.

“Sorry” Levitt passed off the cup to Gabriel, who took over the job of reviving her as Levitt was waving, seemingly at nothing, in the air.

Clarke felt the cool damp cloth hit her face again and groaned, it hurt and yet it felt good as it cooled her hot skin.

“O—hr” A coughing fit clenched her lungs and threatened to restart the fires down her throat.

Tears leaked from her dry painfully.

Fuck. She actually missed Josephine.

“Don’t talk” Gabriel commanded, soft and stern like how her father would. Clarke couldn’t remember how old he was but his age was starting to show on his shoulders, hunching him over and leaching the energy away from him.

“The others are…” the hesitation was enough to have her heart beating hard again, so much it had Levitt checking up on her before going back to his imaginary screens. “better off than you right now”

Gabriel watched the woman try to snort through her exhaustion. Right now, Clarke didn’t need to know that Miller had tried to break her out and got knocked down trying. She didn’t need to know that her friends were taken back to breakfast, at gun point might he add, as if none of her torture hadn’t just occurred. As if anyone could eat after watching her torture.

“You need to focus, Clarke. You don’t need to fight, not this time…just try to think of a certain memory and go from there” he whispered.

Clarke wanted to say she was trying, hell she wanted to scream it, but she could do neither. Her throat to raw and her will while normally strong against many others, it was oddly weak against her own self.

That only left her with the question though, what should she focus on?

The rim of a cup brushed her lips dragging her from her thoughts, Clarke latched greedily. Her stomach protested but her throat was overriding it.

“Clarke,” The seriousness in Gabriel’s voice halted her self-induced drowning. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think any of us really do besides just get the hell away from here; but we’re cornered, and our options are running out”

She didn’t want to agree, but he was right. When they were just about to be caught, she was willing to stay behind, again, to die. To sacrifice herself. To be the one to make the choice. The one to pay the price.

And then Bellamy appeared. Not dead, and it was as if what happened didn’t matter. He was back and somehow; they’d get through this together like they always do.

Then there was another betrayal.

Not even five minutes have passed and he gave away what little leverage they had to stay alive.

Clarke didn’t know what to believe, she tried to get him to talk to her about his time away. To talk of any torture, of any experience that had Cadogan’s cult looking like a sanctuary. Like Sanctum.

Though as he talked more and more, she only got confused. She above anyone knows how the mind breaks itself down when it gets desperate. When it’s isolated. When there was nothing else to lose.

Either something was missing or Bellamy cracked completely, leaving her a stranger that she did not want to see despite all the joy and pain his presence caused all at one.

Could she even do anything to save him, or was this the final straw that broke the camel’s back for them. For all of them.

Would she have to choose between him and all the rest like she did in the past? Was she going to have to choose, to make the hard decision of only taking who she can and come back for him later if at all?

She couldn’t do that, not to Octavia, not to herself and certainly not the young man who led with her on the ground.

But at the same time…none of them were the same.

And Clarke really, really didn’t want to admit it; but there weren’t any real options. No oxymorons to choose from. There was only postponement and hoping.

She was so lost in thought that Clarke didn’t notice the cup in front of her till half of it was spilled down her face.

Gabriel was watching, and that feeling of being studied like a puzzle hit her again. As if the man was always trying to see if she had some sort of second head that pops up every now and again.

“I’d rather not see you die on the operating table again. I can’t even begin to tell you all the possibilities of cognitive impairments that you may or are sustaining. So, I know it’s hard, but you need to focus…Actually, better yet, just give them the memories Clarke. Lose the battle to win the war, it’s horrible I know, but I don’t think we can win this one”

She wanted to agree, but Madi’s life was on the line and so was everyone else’s if they information from the flame. Besides, the translations aren’t completely correct.

The translations are not correct. Clarke blinked, but before she could say anything Gabriel was escorted out of the room with a sad look in his eyes when he turned back to her before disappearing from sight.

In his place was the person she wanted to be farthest from.

Bellamy Blake.

“Have faith Clarke” He said. “We can win the war to end all wars, we can know peace Clarke”

She looked at the man, somehow the devastation of thinking him dead was far less painful than seeing him as someone else in the living.

Emotions to fast to comprehend were tearing her down from the inside out. The betrayal, the anguish, the desperation, the hopelessness of always— _always_ —having to kill a part of herself to keep on going was taking its toll on her already broken body and splintered spirit.

“I did” she gasped out, an unknown vein of energy swelling into her out of nowhere. Blood was staining her teeth, showing the world her sins she kept inside; the black streams trailed down her shredded lips “then I found you”

A glint of satisfaction hit her when he looked surprised and hurt, and then her own sorrow filled up the now empty part of her heart. What bout of energy came in like a storm vanished just as fast.

Clarke didn’t have the energy anymore. She couldn’t snarl, couldn’t yell…she couldn’t even cry if she wanted to. Instead all she could do was slump back down, unable to lift her body and fell into an unconscious state.

The last thing she saw was his sorrowful look, the one that cut deeper than when he left her to chip Madi…how did he not see that this was no better. They were doing better before this stupid war to end all wars…weren’t they, like in Sanctum?

They did better…

They had to be.

The thoughts of war, only truly ending was if humans were gone, clouded her mind.

She didn’t see Levitt bring the needle out, didn’t see the pain in his eyes at the future on the broken person he was sedating.

Instead darkness greeted her as she thought death would; out of nowhere, painful, and lonely.

At least she didn’t scream.

…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen the most recent episode, but I did update!

…

She was given forty-eight hours, because as Cadogan had put it as he left “I’m a patient man, Clarke”

Apparently that also meant resting in isolation the first day to make sure her brain didn’t shut down, but even if it did, she wouldn’t have noticed.

Yeah, Clarke was out for the first thirty-two hours.

Then she was dragged to lunch with the rest of her friends in the arms of two measly guards and a horde behind them. In case she had any ideas apparently in her half comatose state.

“Clarke!”

“Oh my god”

Her world was spinning, every step hurt and the lights, those damn lights were _bright_.

“Hey, hey sit down”

A strong pair of arms lead her to the table, the scratch of the chair against the floor doing nothing to help her.

“Clarke”

Where the walls always this white.

“Hey, Clarke”

Oh, someone was talking to her, “Hmmm?”

Clarke let herself sag, molding into the chair she was plopped into, posture be damned. She heard chattering around her but she didn’t listen as the voices meshed together. Merging in a symphony that did nothing more than raise her blood pressure and put figurative nails in her head…or maybe real ones.

“Don’t do that” A hand grabbed hers, her fingers newly stained black, “you’ll completely reopen them”

She blinked, “Miller…”

The man smiled, though it was pained and…were those bruises?

“What happened to your face”

He laughed, “It’s always been that way”

No, it hasn’t. She should know because Miller didn’t look like he met the underside of a boot before she was put under M-CAP.

“What did they do to you” she coughed out, her throat still burning. A glass of water was thrust into her hands. She didn’t look who gave it to her, didn’t bother to check if it was one of the cultists trying to poison her or not.

“Nothing as bad as what happened to you”

She greedily took a gulp, her stomach revolting again but she forced it down feeling the cool liquid slosh around. It was like the cool seeped through her, calming the fires in her veins and taking just a small but substantial amount of thudding from her head.

“So, what’s the plan”

Clarke looked up, slowly, her world has spun one too many times already.

It was Jordan, his eyes still eager and hopeful despite the haggard look that adorned his face. They were supposed to protect him, him and Madi and Hope. They were supposed to be kids, free of the atrocities of their parents and yet…the cycle repeated.

“I…” Everyone was looking at her, expecting something of her. Always her, but…what could they do now? She had no plan, they were supposed to be out of here by now, back to Sanctum and its issues not be prisoners of a Cult that thinks there is an end to all wars.

“I don’t know” She couldn’t bear to see the young man’s face crack, to see the shock. If it wasn’t so sad, she’d laugh, the great Clarke Griffin master of plans and killer of everyone, mountain slayer, Wanheda the commander of death…had no plan. There was no next step. There was no action, no idea.

“Come on Clarke there has to be” he said again.

“No Jordan there isn’t, okay. I have no plan. I have no leverage…not anymore. I have no way to get any of us out of here. Okay”

“But—”

“Enough. Just… _enough_. I. Don’t. Know.”

She squinted through the bright lights at the table before her where cutlery twinkled just as much as the walls did. She watched Jordan opened his mouth but then clamp it shut. He nodded picking away at the food in front of him.

No one said anything, the awkward silence eating up any last remaining pockets of comfort. Clarke didn’t eat. Couldn’t eat. Her stomach rumbled at the same time it screeched to let its contents come back up. Clarke griped onto her glass with white knuckles willing bile to not spill.

“You need to eat something”

Clarke cracked an eye open. She didn’t even notice she started to doze. Octavia was looking at her, she pushed a bowl of fruit over. Red and bright, but looking way to good.

“I’mf ine” she muttered, her lip tugging where it was starting to heal.

“You aren’t” Octavia countered.

Clarke ignored her pushing the bowl back, clinging tighter to her water with the other hand. The invisible guns pointed at their heads still hung with a promising presence. It was ridiculous. At least the ground was honest of its brutality.

The two watched the rest watch their food, a few pieces eaten here or there but the majority just being moved around their plates. Every occasion of screeching metal on ceramic had a collective flinch follow soon after.

Octavia sighed and leaned closer to her, “Did you find a memory to hold you”

Clarke didn’t say anything. To many emotions, to many memories. Her head was full of them, some not even hers to begin with; some were wisps of the Commanders’ memories, some were Josephine’s, there were even some that Clarke wasn’t so sure were memories at all but they all mushed together in her head, crowding her out. Her head was full and there was nowhere for them to go, even if she did have a memory to ground her…well, her heart wasn’t willing to let her stay.

“No” her voice scratching its way out of her throat. Clarke flinched at the crack in her voice and took another drink.

Octavia looked at her but didn’t say anything, she just took her hand and squeezed gently. Clarke couldn’t do much more than curl a finger around Octavia’s pinky. With a sigh Clarke leaned back, her body demanding sleep once again. She didn’t notice the conversation pick up or the multiple pair of eyes trying to dig into her skin.

Clarke was able to nap in peace.

“What are we supposed to do” It was the first words out of Hope’s mouth that Octavia heard since—since Diyoza’s death.

The pain was still raw for her but it was nothing Hope was filling. Octavia reached her hand across but the younger woman pulled it away, her shoulders uncharacteristically low and curled in. Octavia leaned back taking in the eyes that were looking to her.

She didn’t want to lead again, that was Clarke’s job.

“We survive”

“And just how are we supposed to do that”

Gabriel had his hands crossed and his chin leaning on them, a fork dangled between his fingers and if Octavia didn’t know any better she’d say he fit into the room well with his white dress; but he had a fire in his eyes that only seemed to grow brighter the longer they’ve been here, he was tired of more fake gods. Something she could get behind.

Octavia was still matching Gabriel’s stare, “We get back to Sanctum, go through when no one else is looking or we can blast our way out. We get Indra to rally Wonkru, you can help with the children of Gabriel”

The man only raised an eyebrow.

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them and the people of the forest that chose to follow him, the only difference is that Octavia knew Gabriel had a good heart and an even better head on his shoulders than most humans combined.

“Okay, good start, but what about _her_ ” Hope pointed to Clarke, who was once again passed out with a frown.

It was Gabriel’s turn to speak, “They will do anything to find the flame, Clarke may have to be carried if she even survives—”

Everyone flinched, Gabriel eyed them all but continued,

“We take her but we may not have the resources to help her if she crashes, that also doesn’t take into account the _army_ they have. Octavia, they have a real army, with weapons far more advanced than ours, with years of training”

“Yes, _training_ , not experience. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy because nothing ever is with us”

Octavia ignored Miller snorting into his drink.

“And well, Clarke is strong. Hurting and bruised and bleeding but she survives, that’s what she’s best at”

Everyone looked toward the woman who seemed to skip from one apocalypse to another, always leading and taking the damage that came her way. She was dozing, the only indication she was remotely alive was the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Octavia slipped the glass out from Clarke’s loose grip and set it down.

There was a solid minute where no one spoke but instead looked to the half-asleep leader.

Gabriel ran his hands through his hair, “Okay, say we do somehow get to the control room, and somehow get back to Sanctum. Do we get helmets because if not then we remember none of this and we’ll have an army after us. Do we grab what we can or are we going to without anything? More importantly what are you going to do about your brother?”

Octavia shrugged; she was still working on that. She couldn’t leave her brother; at least not till she did everything she could to bring him back to his former self. It’s the least she could do after everything he’s done for her, besides…he’s family.

“Leave him to me”

Gabriel didn’t look convinced but he didn’t say anything either.

They all ate in silence hoping some how they could find a way home.

…


End file.
